


Unanswered Prayers

by deansscruffyangel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean Winchester - Freeform, Destiel - Freeform, Future Castiel, Future Dean Winchester, Future Fic, M/M, Supernatural - Freeform, castiel - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-15
Updated: 2013-01-14
Packaged: 2017-11-25 14:27:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/639814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deansscruffyangel/pseuds/deansscruffyangel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After waiting for fifteen years, Dean decides to have a little faith</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> This is actually the first fic I ever wrote so it may be slightly rough around the edges!

The screen door creaked loudly as Dean pushed it open, letting the bitterly cold November air almost take his breath away. 

He walked out into the night fully aware that he had forgotten his jacket, but deciding that he didn’t care at the last moment. 

Dean begam distancing himself from the tiny house, secretly hoping that his sudden disappearance wouldn’t raise any questions later. It was his birthday party, so more than likely somebody would notice his absence sooner or later. 

After slightly stumbling down the rickety stairs in the near darkness, Dean headed out into a night not completely sure where he’d end up, but knowing that wherever that may be, he was sure he’d find what he was looking for. 

 

* * *

 

Dean was turning 56 today; a thought that he could barely wrap his mind around to begin with.  He was getting older, and he had slowly begun to notice that things weren’t as simple as they once were (if you could ever call it simple).  Ever since he had ‘retired’ from hunting, Dean had traded his fast-paced, thrill seeking life in for a much more quiet life full of cheap beer, and lawn work. 

The years had passed by seemingly fast, and to Dean’s surprise, had been quite uneventful.  More often than not, he had spent most days alone, sitting in his living room, watching re-runs of M.A.S.H and Fresh Prince, drinking beer and eating stale Cheetos. 

He was definitely living the dream. 

Dean, of course, never had a family of his own.  He remained perfectly content with the holiday visits that Sam and his family shared with him.  Satisfied with spoiling the shit out his two nieces, loading them up on sugar, and sending them home to Sam and his wife to deal with.  Sometimes the girls would stay with him over the weekends to give Sam and Tessa some time alone.  He always enjoyed walking down the hallway of his crammed house, hearing the girls giggle from his bedroom; no doubt making a mess of his bed. 

Dean slowed his pace the further he moved away from his tiny, pitiful house; enjoying the night sky and the crisp air.  The moon wasn’t out, and as Dean looked up, he had to stifle a gasp at how bright the stars were, and how clearly they shown. 

He took a deep breath, relaxing himself slightly; readying himself. 

Dean had been working himself up to this point for the majority of the night, and his anxiety bristled at the seams.  With every second that had passed, he had grown more and more uneasy, slightly weary of what he was about to do.  The party was a blur to him mostly, as Sam and his family seemed to blend together; his thoughts consumed him.  He couldn’t stand down now; he had told himself that this was what he wanted to do, _what he needed to do._

It had been a total of fifteen years. Fifteen years since they shut the gates of hell forever; sealing every evil malicious creature away for good. 

Fifteen years since he had dropped Sam off at college, pulling the Impala away from the curb; glancing back in the rearview mirror and feeling the distance grow between them. 

It had been fifteen years since he had spoken to Castiel.

 

* * *

 

 

Fifteen long years since those familiar blue eyes slid across him, cutting him like a knife with each and every glance.  The thought alone sent chills down his body, and Dean brought his arms close to his chest, stifling what warmth he had left.

Fifteen years had passed, and Dean hadn’t gone even one day without longing to cry ‘uncle’ to the sky, begging his angel to return.  He had told himself to be strong, told himself that he couldn’t tear Cas apart anymore; couldn’t watch his grace eat him from the inside out. 

It had been Dean’s decision to part ways with Castiel.  He could still remember the unreadable expression on Cas’ face when he told him.  Castiel had stilled, no emotion, unmoving; a stone worn down from the weight of the tide.  Dean had expected more from him; a little wrath to be honest, and he was shocked when the angel said nothing, just simply…left. 

He could remember the exact moment he made the decision.  The moment where he caught a faint glimpse of the angels’ wings, or what was left of them. 

A moment, that no matter how hard Dean tried, he couldn’t erase what he had seen, and it would haunt him until the day he died. 

He could never forget the twisted curve of them; they snaked around the angels body, almost like they were trying to suffocate him.  Much like hands, reaching around, ripping at the angels chest, pulling the very essence of him out.  What still remained of the wings was so thin and brittle, that Dean imagined if he reached out to touch them that they would shatter into a million pieces, splintering into the angel's fragile, broken body. 

He had always secretly imagined his wings were like something from a cheesy Valentine’s Day card, all fluffy and white. 

Not these wings; these wings were nothing more than a tattered remnant.  A ghost of everything Castiel had been; everything he could’ve been.  They were full of broken promises, wrongs that were never made right, and things that could never be undone. 

Dean could still remember the way that Castiel had looked at him that night; it was a look that he was all too familiar with; a look that stared back at him in the mirror each morning. 

That was the moment that Dean realized, he was killing the angel; _his_ angel. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

Dean had finally made it a safe distance from the house; the faint lights were a blur, and he could hear the muffled sound of music fading away into the cool night. 

He could all but imagine Sam and his kids, huddled around an old box of cassette tapes, laughing at the silly collection Dean hoarded in his house. 

The good news was that he was able to finally catch a breath out here, to relax.  It felt strange: relaxation; he had been on edge all night, and his sudden comfort was less than thrilling. 

Dean stood there in the silence for what seemed like forever, letting the seconds slowly tick past. Finally, he forced his eyes shut, squeezing his lids tightly together, afraid that if he opened them, the moment would slip through his fingers like so many others had.

 

* * *

 

 

Dean had never been the praying type, but then again, he remembered the _exact_ moment when that had changed.

The feeling he had when an angel of the lord had grabbed him suddenly, slamming his body against the wall and clamping his mouth shut with the palm of his hand. 

The way that the action had rendered Dean speechless, and still to this day sent chills running down his spine. 

He remembered the angels overwhelming strength and power; his grace radiating from him, so close that Dean felt like he too could feed off of it; make himself stronger, better.

He had faith in Castiel. 

Not the kind of faith one would imagine though; this faith was reckless, full of selfish want and need, and driven by a force Dean never really fully understood.  

 

* * *

 

Here stood the broken, damned man; alone in a cold, dark field in Lawrence, Kansas...hoping for a miracle.  Was that too much to ask, Dean thought to himself quietly, his eyes still squeezed shut, despite the terrible throbbing in his head.

He took a deep breath, and then another, still trying to focus his mind; trying to make sense of everything running through it. 

Dean’s voice was quiet at first, barely above a whisper. 

“Okay” he said quietly

“I’m praying; I’m here”

_Silence_

Dean stood for a moment, letting it sink in that nothing had happened; hurt suddenly washing over him. 

What had he done wrong? _Maybe he wasn’t trying hard enough_

Maybe Castiel had simply gotten tired of waiting. 

_No._

Not Cas; not his Castiel.  

He tried again, and again; with no such luck. 

A quick, panicked feeling was rising up in Dean.  He had waited too long; and now too many endless years had separated the two of them. 

Years that lacked the many laughs they shared; years without smiles, and glances that typically lasted longer than they should.  Years without a friendship that meant more to Dean then he could possibly explain because there was no word for it; no word for what he and Castiel had shared.   

Years that were just simply…wasted. 

Wasted time was something Dean Winchester knew all too well. 

 

* * *

 

He had to try harder.  He squeezed his eyes even tighter, hoping that the action would somehow entice Cas to appear; to hear him out. 

“Okay you sonofabitch” he growled

“It would be really awesome if you’d get your feathery ass down here..”

His words were cut off suddenly by the sound of wings fluttering close behind him. 

It was one of the most beautiful noises Dean had ever heard. 

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After waiting for fifteen years, Dean decides to have a little faith

Some of Dean’s best memories were reunions. 

Reunions that he had shared with his brother Sam; a mixture of embraces and phrases that always offered a resolution, but in the end were almost as bad as the harsh goodbyes. 

Reunions were always bitter-sweet for Dean because where there was a beginning, there was always an end; and each ending stole a piece of Dean that he could never replace.

 

* * *

 

Deans heart was pounding against his chest , his anxiety getting the better of him.  He stood there for seconds, maybe even minutes; letting his mind settle and actually make sense of his surroundings. 

His eyes were still shut, and he dared not open them for fear that it was all just his imagination. 

There was no mistaking it though, Castiel was behind him.  He could feel the angels glare nipping at the back of his neck, cutting down his spine and back up again.  The gentle, yet devastating hum of the angels grace; so overwhelming and intoxicating that it took the majority of Dean’s strength not to turn around and press himself closer to the angel. 

He stood his ground, not moving, not changing. 

The silence was broken with a soft voice; a voice Dean hadn’t heard in fifteen years, a voice he hadn’t realized he missed until this instant. 

“Dean”

His knees trembled. 

“Dean?” Castiel said, concern building behind each word.

He turned then, opening his eyes; it was one fluid motion, like he had been practicing for hours.

Dean had to suppress a gasp as he looked at Castiel for the first time in what felt like centuries. 

 

* * *

 

 

Every inch of Castiel was exactly how Dean remembered it.  The disheveled hair (Sam referred to it as ‘sex hair’, which always succeeded in turning Deans face five different shades of red), the slightly crooked smile that crept up the side of his jaw, his dark blue-backwards tie (which secretly bugged the shit out of Dean), and those eyes; dark and desperate, ready for action at the slightest hint, but also gentle, serene, and respectful—a balance Dean could never really figure out. 

“Damn” Dean managed to choke out..

_Keep breathing_

“Damn, it’s good to see you”

Dean let the smile he had been holding back slowly creep across his face, his cheeks burning hot in the icy cold weather. 

He was finally able to breath consistently for the first time in minutes, allowing himself to calm down, since the hardest part was over. 

Cas was here; he had listened when Dean called, and he couldn’t help the little flair of excitement that slowly was building in his stomach. 

Dean felt whole again. 

 

* * *

 

 

“You called?” Castiel questioned, tilting his head slightly; obviously trying to read the man that stood before him, and apparently failing. 

“Yeah” Dean breathed “I guess I did”

Dean wanted to do something; wanted to close the too-large gap between him and Castiel.  Wanted to wrap him up in a hug, hold him close and feel his grace buzz beneath his chest. 

He stood perfectly still.

 _Stay calm_ , Dean practically chanted in his head. 

Every fiber in Dean’s body was screaming at him; screaming for him to reach out to Castiel, really show him that he cared—but the hunter stood his ground.  Perfectly still; knees slightly quivering as he stood under the angels heavy glare. 

 

“Just look at you” Dean smiled

“You haven’t changed one bit, have you?”

“And I—” Dean said while gesturing to himself. 

“I’m sure you could barely recognize an old man like me.”

Dean tried to laugh; tried to cover up the uneasiness that was slowly overwhelming him, and creeping into his voice.

 

There was no doubt about it; the years hadn’t been kind to Dean, and the stress of the evening left him a disheveled mess. 

His blonde hair, had long ago turned grey; and his freckles all but faded with the long hours he spent in the sun.  His face was wrinkled slightly with what one would expect to be ‘laugh lines’, but there was no laughter…not for a long time.  However, he still dressed practically the same; old worn out shirts, dirty pants, and occasionally his father’s old leather jacket.  Once again, living the dream. 

 

Castiel tilted his head again slightly; letting an almost tragic look cross his face, but only for a brief moment before it vanished. 

Almost like it didn’t exist at all. 

“Dean” Castiel breathed

“Of course I recognize you—” his voice trailed off as he spoke the last word, almost like he was holding back, hiding himself. 

 

* * *

 

 

Dean didn’t blame him of course; he didn’t have the best of luck with past relationships.  Sometimes he felt that everything he touched turned to dust with just a brush of his fingertips.  That was Dean though, and he could do nothing to stop it. 

 

“Look” Dean said, darting his eyes in Castiel’s direction; not daring to look at him directly in the eyes. 

“I just-I guess I needed to see you”

Castiel smiled slightly at that, and a sudden flash of heat spread across Dean’s face. 

God he missed making that angel smile.

_His angel_

“I—I uh—” Dean stuttered in sudden embarrassment.

“I’m sorry—I shouldn’t—”

He looked away quickly, and took a deep breath; calming his uneasy nerves. 

_Stupid, stupid, stupid_

 

* * *

 

 

Castiel moved suddenly; it was one solid movement, and it was so fast that it startled Dean, sending him stumbling back suddenly. 

The angel grabbed his arm; steadying him.

He was so close; close enough that Dean could feel the heat rising off of the angel’s body; a heat that warmed Dean to the core.   

“Dean, please” the angel said, his voice straining as if he was trying to make a point.

“You’re apology isn’t required, you’ve done nothing wrong”

_Damn this angel_

 

Castiel released him suddenly and stepped backwards; slightly feeling uncomfortable with the lingering touch. 

Castiel’s look stiffened

“Why did you call me here, Dean?” he asked, a hard scowl pressed on his face.   

That was a good question, Dean thought to himself, why had he called this angel here.  This ancient man; an unwavering, emotionless man.  A man that Dean had grown to love in the many years they fought together. 

 

Love; that was a powerful word for Dean Winchester.  The only person Dean could truly say that he loved was his brother, Sam.  Love was a feeling that Dean poked and prodded at most of his youth, but after all that he had been through; he left the emotion out altogether, preferring the simple quiet life. 

It had taken Dean years to finally admit his feelings for Cas; if one could call them ‘feelings’. 

The emotion itself changed often for Dean.  There was anger; anger that Dean insisted that Castiel left all those years ago, losing all the moments they could’ve shared.  There was hurt, and pain; Dean still didn’t feel that he deserved to be dragged from Hell, but then again, Castiel didn’t feel he deserved to be saved from Purgatory.  There was love; pure and seamless, the kind of love that a person only could find once, and Dean never quite found it again.  There was also lust; a deep, pulsing lust that could drive a person to unthinkable actions if one lost control.   

Dean loved Castiel, end of story.

_I love you_

 

“Cas” Dean said quietly

“I need you here” 

_Dammit_

 

A confused look crossed Castiel’s face, riddled with hurt and resentment.

“Dean—I’ve always been here—”

 


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After waiting for fifteen years, Dean decides to have a little faith.

Dean stood perfectly still, the last thing Cas said still burning a hole through his mind.

Cas had always been there.

It had been raining for two days straight the last time Dean and Cas were together. It had been a heavy, relentless rain; the kind of rain that drenched you clear to the bone. Dean had always loved the rain, but not this rain, this rain had been different.   
Dean had snuck out of the room late at night, hoping that he wouldn’t wake Sammy up.

  
It had taken the majority of the night to work himself up to it, and Dean was as ready as he would ever be.

  
Castiel was eerily calm, too calm in fact. Dean had been devastated; completely blown away from the nonchalant way the angel looked at Dean, his face void of all emotion. Dean couldn’t even look him in the eyes, his face completely downcast; trying to hold it together so he wouldn’t give himself away. Cas stood there only for an instant and then just vanished; leaving Dean alone in the rain.

  
It had been the loneliest rain Dean could remember.

 

* * *

 

Nothing could change the years after Cas had left. They stretched out between them; seemingly endless. Dean spent most of them resenting Castiel in one way or another. He couldn’t believe he just left; without saying anything to him. Not arguing, not begging Dean to let him stay.

He had just been silent; obedient.

That’s what Castiel was of course, an obedient soldier.

Even now as the cold rain began to fall between Dean and Castiel, he couldn’t help but feel the heat rising up off of himself as he quickly grew angry.

  
“You’ve been here?” Dean questioned, letting some of his anger slip  
The angel remained silent.

  
“What are you trying to tell me, huh?” Impatience building behind each word

  
“You’ve been trailing me ever since I told you to get lost? I didn’t need you to babysit me Cas! Dammit, I’m not a child!” Dean hissed at the angel

  
Castiel recoiled at his last remark, making it clear that he was hurt. He backed away slowly sending his eyes downward; making sure to look everywhere but Dean’s face. Dean wished he could take it all back.

  
_Breathe_

“Look..” Dean said, his voice softening, trying to push his frustration out after seeing the affect he had on the angel.

  
“I’m just…I didn’t need you to look after me. I didn’t need that” Dean said in a stern voice. His stared straight at Castiel, catching his attention.

  
“I didn’t want you to anymore” He said quietly. “I…I couldn’t let you…”

  
His voice broke suddenly, letting more emotion slip then he had intended.

  
_Keep it together_

“I didn’t want….”

  
“It wasn’t your job, Dean” Castiel interrupted, meeting Dean’s gaze and holding it.  
“It’s never been your job to look out for me; don’t you see Dean?”

  
He looked off then, somewhere behind Dean.

  
“I look after you..”

 

* * *

 

Castiel moved closer to Dean; so close that he could feel that familiar hum of the angels grace. He closed his eyes, taking the moment in. This was so easy, Dean thought to himself; so real and tangible.

Dean remembered. He could see it now; he could feel every moment, every second that Cas had been there.

Like the moment that Sam lowered Mary, Dean’s new niece, into his trembling arms. Dean had been completely terrified; Mary was so tiny and fragile. Her soft, warm skin pressing against Dean’s rough, callused hands. Everything Dean touched seemed to be taken apart, piece by piece; Mary wouldn’t be any different.   
That’s when he felt it, a low humming noise; it was so quiet that Dean barely noticed it in the room. It washed over him, and consumed him slowly, letting the anxiety escape from him. It had pressed closer to Dean, steadying his shaking hands as he held Mary close to himself; his strength returning. The sudden peace had surprised Dean; none of it seemed to matter while he held Mary close, her soft hand wrapped around his finger.   
Dean had felt whole.

Or when sleep eluded Dean. Harsh, vivid nightmares pushing through Dean’s subconscious; becoming so real and tangible that he could barely tell the difference. He would sit up for days at a time, refusing to give into the dark and twisted imaginings that so often shadowed him. Some nights Dean would awake from one, struggling to breath; feeling the weight of everything pressing down onto him. Feeling the fires of hell, the stench of purgatory, and all the souls he let slip through his fingers pressing against him. He would awaken suddenly from a dream, or he would be just drifting off into one when he would feel it. Sometimes it was low and comforting, and other times it was fast and desperate; much like it was reaching out for him. It would curl around his body, holding it close to him until the nightmare calmed, and he relaxed. It would consume Dean; pressing close to his brittle body, cradling him. He would sleep in peace those nights.   
Dean had felt whole.

There were other moments, of course; moments where Dean laughed, when the rare occasion presented itself. Like when Sam had asked him to help decorate little Joe’s cake for her 5th birthday; she had been so excited, begging for a cake covered in an array of flowers, unicorns, and a castle. Sam had tried so hard; trying to get the flowers just right. Unfortunately, after 2 hours and a shit ton of icing, Sam ended up with a cake that looked more like a plate of spaghetti then flowers and a castle. Dean had tried to comfort his brother in the moment that he revealed the cake to Joe; but she had fallen in love with it. “I’ve always liked spaghetti more than cake Daddy” she said to him, melting his heart as she did so. The cake was a tragedy; but she looked at Sam like he was the world to her, and he was. The hours that Dean and Sam had spent covered in icing, and worrying about finding the right hue of pink to use, finally paid off. It had been an exhausting endeavor, but Dean laughed. He had laughed like hadn’t in years, and in those moments he felt that familiar tug. It wasn’t like the others though; this was peaceful and complete. Dean could still remembering posing in front of the cake, swearing to Sam that it required an exorcism. He smiled then, holding his niece close and wrapping his arm around his brother’s shoulder. Happiness, Dean thought; he was happy.  
Dean had felt whole.

_Cas had always been there._

* * *

Dean stood there in silence; unmoving, rigid almost as he tried to make sense of what was running through his head.

  
Dean had spent years resenting the angel; feeling as if he had abandoned him. Dean had told the angel to leave, he knew that, but there was always apart of him that wished he would never leave; always close by his side.

  
_Stay calm_

Castiel was still close when Dean finally opened his eyes. He gave the angel a hard look; no doubt working up his courage.

  
“All those years” he finally said, side stepping and moving around Cas.

  
“Of course” Castiel said, following suite, and turning to face him. “I couldn’t just leave you” he said again.

  
“I didn’t want that!” Dean said, feeling his anger slowly return.

  
“Don’t you understand, Cas. I saw what I did to you; I saw your wings. They were falling apart man; you were falling apart…all because of me, and I just…I couldn’t anymore.”   
Dean had to fight back the memories of the angels crooked wings towering behind him; severely deformed and bloody, twisted beyond recognition.

Why couldn’t he see, Dean thought; he gave him up! He had been the stronger man here; not the weak one.

  
“I had to be strong Cas” he whispered “Don’t you see?”

It took a while for Cas to answer, but Dean could clearly see that the angel was rehearsing what exactly he wanted to say. Cas took a deep breath, and squared his shoulders suddenly, meeting Dean’s eyes.

“No Dean, you don’t see..” his voice grew louder, more course.   
“Did you learn nothing from the years we spent fighting together?” He looked off suddenly, almost as if he was being taken back; taken back to a place that once was, a place that would never be.   
“All those years ago, I was taught something…something that set me free; and for the first time in my existence I could live for myself, make my own decisions. I finally got to choose...” his voice broke off again, as if it couldn’t handle the weight of what was being said.

“Dean” the angel stood there for a moment, almost as If he was gathering himself; preparing.

Then, the most amazing and beautiful thing Dean had ever seen slowly spread across Castiel’s face; a smile.

The kind of a smile that set fire to Castiel’s face; setting a twinkle in his eye, and turning his cheeks slightly red.

  
It was breathtaking. 

  
“Dean” the angel repeated confidence rolling off of him.

  
“I chose you. You were my free will” he shook his head slightly as he spoke “It was never you job to save me, or fix me, because I didn’t want that; didn’t need that.”  
He moved closer to Dean then, tilting his head as he did so.

  
“My wings were broken, but they were wings of a fallen angel; an angel who fell from grace Dean…” he spoke softly.

  
He reached out then, trailing his fingers across Dean’s jaw; an action that sent shivers down his spine, and turned his cheeks pink.

  
“An angel who fell for you…”

Dean wanted to say something; needed to say something, but the words just simply wouldn’t come out. They had lost so much time between the two of them, but all that was washed away with the time they had together now. All Dean could manage to do was pull the angel close, wrapping his arms around him, and resting his face in the crook of his neck. He breathed him in; gripping the angels trenchcoat and holding it close, just like he had done so many years ago when he thought he had lost him for good.   
“I’m sorry” Dean whispered against the angels neck, as he burred his face into it.  
The sweet buzz of grace empowering him, and consuming him.

Dean felt whole.

 

 


End file.
